Three Weeks With My Brother

I became the master of scheduling. Every minute was planned for during the course of a day. Time was not to be wasted, even when I didn't work, for my responsibilities didn't end there. To accomplish everything, I compartmentalized my life into little boxes: If I wasn't working, I was dad, or husband, and I focused on those areas as intensely as my work. In the same way I sought my parents' approval, I sought my family's. I couldn't be simply dad, I tried to be super-dad: I coached soccer teams, attended gymnastics practices, helped with homework, played catch, and spent the weekends boating, bowling, swimming, and heading to the beach. I continued working with Ryan informally--he no longer needed intense structure--and played on the carpet with Landon every night. I tried to be the best husband I could, helping around the house, and doing my best to romance my wife. Somehow, despite all that, I squeezed in time to earn a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, lift weights, and jog daily. I continued to read a hundred books a year.

I slept less than five hours a night.

It wasn't all bad news, however. In the spring of 2001, I picked up the phone to hear Micah's excited voice.

"Christine is pregnant," he said. "We just found out."

"Congratulations," I said sincerely. "When's the baby due?"

"January," he said. "Just like Landon. And the twins will be only a few months old when she's born, so they'll have fun as cousins when they get older. When are the twins due?"

"Late August. How's Christine holding up?"

"Great, so far. She wouldn't have even known that she was pregnant except for the home pregnancy test she took."

"That's wonderful," I enthused. "I'll tell you, though--it's going to change your life."

"I know. I can't wait."

"You ready for this? Being a father?"

"Of course I'm ready. I've raised Alli since she was two."

"That's when they start getting easy. Wait until there's a newborn. It's a whole different world."

"Any words of advice you want to offer? Since it's my first time, and you're the expert?"

"Yeah," I said. "Toward the end of the pregnancy, see all the movies you can."

"Why?"

"Because," I said, "you're not going to see another movie for at least a year."

"Yeah, we will. Christine loves movies."

"Trust me," I said. "Nothing can change a lifestyle more than having a baby."

"Yeah, yeah," he said. Despite myself, I smiled inwardly. He'd learn soon enough.

"And Micah?"

"Yeah?"

"Congratulations again. Everything changes, but it's a change for the better."

"Thanks, little brother." He paused. "Oh yeah, one more thing--Cat wanted me to tell you this."

"What's that?"

"Quit working so hard."

"I will when you start going to church again."

We both laughed.

"This is great," I said. "I'm happy for you and Christine."

"Me, too."

I didn't listen to my brother. Or to my wife.

By early summer 2001, one year after my sister's death, Cat was heavy with twins, and I had to take on even more responsibility, since she couldn't keep up with the toddler or the older boys. To meet those additional demands on my time, I found myself sacrificing more sleep. Throughout that summer, I averaged less than three hours a night, and though I felt like a zombie when I stumbled out of bed, I quickly poured a cup of coffee, and charged into my day.

And I went and went and went. Working. Watching the kids. Taking care of Landon. Cleaning the house. Go, go, go.

Somehow, I was pulling it off. But a pace like that isn't normal, nor is it realistic. Something had to give, and for me, it was not only sleep, but simple downtime during the day. No lazy mornings sleeping in, no poker games with friends, no time to watch sports on television. I rushed through lunch and dinner. For a while, it didn't bother me, for my schedule made it seem as if I were in control of my life. I was taking care of all that I needed to. The schedule, though, had begun to control me. Little by little, I forgot how to relax. Even worse, I began to feel as if I didn't deserve to relax. Not until I finished ------ (fill in the blank).

But nothing was ever finished. There was always one more page to write, one more novel to finish, one more city to add to a tour, one more interview to give. My children continued to need my attention, no matter how much time I spent with them the day before. There was always another chore around the house. I wasn't necessarily unhappy--boredom has never suited me--and the pace wasn't killing me physically. But the lack of downtime, I would eventually realize, wasn't good for me mentally or emotionally. I began waking every day with the sense that I was falling behind. Despite my best efforts, I began to feel as if I were failing. Where once I was doing all those things because I wanted to, it gradually came to feel as if I had to, as if I had no other choice.

I say this in retrospect. At the time, I couldn't see the forest for the trees. Back then, all I knew was that I began to wake up with a sickening sense of dread. As soon as my eyes popped open, my mind filled with all that I had to do, and how my only chance to get it done was to start right then, at that moment, and get going. My life was a long to-do list, and instead of slowing down and doing what I could, I'd roll up my sleeves, grit my teeth, and work even harder.

Again, I wasn't consciously unhappy about it. I tried to find humor in the situation. I continued to laugh. People often remarked at how optimistic I seemed or how much I smiled. Yet, slowly but surely, life was becoming a grind, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

My brother and I continued to speak on the phone regularly that summer. Our conversations--after discussing our pregnant wives--usually went as follows: "What's going on?" he might ask, and I'd begin telling him everything I had scheduled. When I finished, he'd say nothing for a moment.

"So when do you sleep?" he'd ask.

"When I get the chance," I answered. Strangely, I felt a sense of pride about this, as if this were an admirable quality.

"That's dumb," he said. "You gotta sleep. And you gotta take time for yourself, too. You'll go crazy if you don't. Haven't you learned the importance of balance yet? Life is all about balance, and right now, your life is seriously out of whack."

"I'll be fine."

"Well, you sound stressed."

"Just busy. I'm fine--really," I said. "So what's going on with you?"

"Just living my life. I get up whenever I want and linger over the newspaper. I work out for a while, get in the shower around noon, and then figure out what I want to do next."

"Must be nice."

"You could do it, too. Everyone chooses his own life."

"Not always," I said. "Sometimes responsibilities get in the way. Granted, I could choose to ignore them, but it wouldn't be good for my family."

"Your family will be fine. You're just making excuses. You're going to go crazy if you keep up like this."

I didn't see it that way. I knew, however, there was no use arguing with him.

"Enough about me. How are you doing?"

"The same."

"You going to church yet?"

"Not really."

"How's Christine handling it?"

"The same. She's not too happy about it."

"Don't you think you should go then? If only for her?"

"You go to church for yourself, Nick. If you go for someone else, it doesn't mean anything."

"Then go for you."